


A Life Never Lived

by bladeoftheshadows11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeoftheshadows11/pseuds/bladeoftheshadows11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rewrite to DNA Mishap. Harry finds out Lucius Malfoy is his real father, and that he's not quite as human as he believed. He finds comfort not only in his newly found family, but also in someone quite unexpected. creature!dark!Harry nice!Draco Snarry fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry stared silently out the slightly grimy window of number twelve Grimmauld Place, trying to figure out what the Black legacy saw that made them move there particularly.

Several months passed since the Great War of Hogwarts, as it was beginning to become a tendency among the people of Wizarding Britain to call, and now they were in the deep of winter. Outside, snow covered everything in a fine layer of crystallized white, making the poor, dirty Muggle neighborhood seem almost magical. The depilated apartment complexes lining the street, the broken toys and wheel-less bikes lying on grassless lawns, the potholed roads and cracked sidewalks people were forced to walk on—no one drove cars as it was too dangerous—all coated in a pretty layer of snow and ice.

In the afternoons, when the sun was at its highest peak and its feeble light at its warmest, the ragamuffin children would rush out in their warmest clothes—usually moth-bitten, oversized coats found buried deep in closets and hats that would hang off their heads by a thread—to build lopsided snowmen and have snowball fights. For at least an hour, the street would be filled with sounds of high pitched laughter followed by equally pitched shrieks, the pitter-patter of small feet contrasting with the heavy thump of large snowballs, and shouts with a loud response as they attempted to build snowmen with what they could find buried under the snow. Then their mother’s would come out, shivering even as they wrapped their worn shawls and threadbare robes closer to their bodies, calling for Simon, or Abigail, or little John to come eat a hot lunch and be tucked in for a quick nap. And at first they would pause in their merriment to complain, pouting at their mothers, and beg for just a few more minutes. But the mothers stayed strong against their child’s pleads and eventually their own exhaustion won over and all would trudge home like mini soldiers from war, to a feeble yet hot meal that would warm their bellies and a thin yet warm blanket that would warm their bodies and soothe them to sleep. A childhood that even the poor was gifted with. A childhood Harry couldn’t say he had without lying.  

It was in those afternoons that made Harry want to stay. The Black residence was in no way a fitting place for anyone to live and if it weren’t for Sirius, Harry was quite certain he wouldn’t even be there in the first place. But in honor of his godfather’s name, the raven persevered and acquiesced to the dark décor and dim lighting, the screaming portrait of Walburga Black and the resistant elf named Kreacher that came with number twelve Grimmauld Place.

Due to its gloom-and-doom ambiance, however, Grimmauld Place was usually occupied only by Harry and little Kreacher. Not many came to visit, in turn making Harry a very lonely and bored ‘Savior’. Majority of his time was spent either sleeping or in the library, but Harry always made sure to spend that one hour in the afternoon, watching the brightly smiling children outdoors having their fun. It was his own special way of recuperation after the war.  

But today, Harry’s afternoon was cut short, before the children were due to return to their homes. He had visitors today. Some he wished would visit more often, others he would never expect to see again, let alone in his house. One he saw on a weekly basis or otherwise owled back and forth with. Together they sat in one of the many parlors of number twelve, the exception for the particular one they were in being that it had a usable fireplace and lacked any lurking creatures. Harry sat in an armchair close to the fire dancing and roaring from its stone and wood prison, observing his guests with a rather detached expression. He wasn’t too happy that they were interrupting his afternoon. In fact, when the wards let out an alarm and the doorbell rung, he considered ignoring it. Then he figured that if someone actually took the time out of their day to visit him, they were there for something important. Now they were all cluttered into the warm room, a cup of tea in their hands or on the coffee table in front of them.

On one of the couches, the one closest to him in fact, sat Hermione and Ron. The two had been dancing around each other for years until they finally faced each other and now were a rather happy couple. At least, Ron was. Hermione was worried, as she told Harry on their weekly meet, that Ron only wanted her for one thing in particular, as it would seem that it was all he asked her for lately. Something she was finding herself glad that she didn’t give up.

Beside them, on another armchair, was McGonagall. After the death of Dumbledore, the Scottish woman became Headmistress by default, as was one of the many responsibilities of the Deputy Headmistress. Still grieving over their lost Headmaster, McGonagall seemed to have a hard time figuring about what exactly to do with Hogwarts. Reparations had to be paid, repairs needed to be made, schedules had yet to be designated. Rumors were being passed around that Hogwarts wouldn’t be ready in time for next year’s first years. Parents were questioning on their child’s lost year during the war. Would they have to repeat it? It was very straining and stressful on the newly appointed Headmistress and Harry was more than willing to assist. If the woman would ask of his help, that is. Today was in fact the first he heard or saw of McGonagall in many months. She could have died and he probably wouldn’t have known.

The couch beside McGonagall was occupied by two people Harry hadn’t seen since the trail cases for Death Eaters after the war. Lady Narcissa Malfoy and the newly made Lord Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was currently in a cell in Azkaban after being tried and found guilty by the Wizengamot. The two innocent Malfoys took it rather hard. Neither could find it in themselves to live in Malfoy Manor, not with the horrid memories imprinted on the innocent looking mansion. Instead, they opted to live in one of their many villas, this one located on a small, private island they owned off the coast of some country or the other. The two Malfoys tried very hard to stay out of the limelight and seemed to be doing very well in doing so; the last Harry saw of them in the Daily Prophet was when they moved to their villa, hence how he knew.

Sitting in a conjured chair was in fact the one and only Severus Snape. Harry was torn between relief and fear to know the man had survived Nagini’s attack. Relieved, because he knew that Snape sacrificed himself to save Harry’s hide and the young raven would never be able to forgive himself if Snape died for him. Fear, because he was certain Snape remembered the memories he’d shown to Harry and the youth was positive one day Snape would come banging on his door, demanding that Harry allowed him to Oblivate the memories. Harry didn’t want him to do that—no matter what type of light it put his parents in—and planned to fight tooth and nail to keep the memories. As of yet, Snape hadn’t done so, but Harry was waiting.

Last but not least, sitting in another conjured chair, though a considerably smaller one, sat Harry’s very own personal accountant for Gringotts, Griphook. Due to the whole breaking in and stealing a dragon thing, Harry and Gringotts weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment, but according to Griphook, this meeting was too important to allow silly goblin pride to obstruct it. The goblin had just actually finished explaining something to Harry that he had not been quite expecting, and in turn did not know how to react. So he kept his expression blank and chose to stay silent, even as everyone else in the room sat on pins-n-needles awaiting his response.

Ron was first to break the silence, turning to look at Griphook with a bewildered, yet angry expression. “Wait, what was that?”

Clearing his throat, Griphook glanced back down at his papers. “Lord Harry J. Potter bar Black is not the child of the late Lord James R. Potter and the equally late Lady Lily R. Potter ne Evans. His actual heritage, in fact, is that of the currently incarcerated Lord Lucius S. Malfoy and the late Lady Lily R. Potter ne Evans.” His voice was the cold and smooth one of a professional at work. He looked up at Harry. “You, Lord Potter bar Black, are the youngest heir of the Malfoy estate.”

“Impossible.” Narcissa Malfoy’s icy tone whipped through the room like icy lightening, calling attention to her. “I am Lucius’ wife. We have been promised to each other since our days at Hogwarts. Since the announcement of our engagement, he has bedded no other than me.”     

Griphook only raised a scaly eyebrow, unaffected by her apparent temperament. “I apologize if this inconveniences you, Lady Malfoy. Your husband, however, had been in a long term affair with Lady Potter up to the day of her death. Lord Potter is indeed their offspring, the result of their copulation.”

The temperature of the room decreased several degrees as Lady Malfoy stood, despite the constant heat given off from the flames confined in the fireplace. “You dare tell me that my husband not only committed adultery, with a Mudblood no less, but that he had the audacity to produce a halfling spawn in the process?!”

Harry’s face stayed impassive during the proceedings in front of him, which included ignoring Lady Malfoy’s comment on his mother. His emotions, however, were in dark turmoil. He wasn’t James’ son? How was that even possible? It…was utterly preposterous. Impossible. His mother…Lily…she would never cheat on James…Would she?

He still had the photo album Hagrid gave him, but he didn’t really need it. The picture of James and Lily was burned into his mind. They looked so happy together, with the infant him right in between. If Lily had been cheating on James, then that would mean that she wasn’t happy right? They certainly looked happy. And he’s even heard stories of Lily and James from Sirius. All of them were stories of how in love they were with each other and how they were joined at the hip. Were they lies? Or maybe they were true, just warped from Sirius’ point of view as their friend, making him unable to see any tension that would be between them? It couldn’t possibly be true; they were Harry’s parents. Besides, Harry certainly did look like a carbon copy of James, only with Lily’s eyes.

Just as the thought formed in his head, Ron jumped up and pointed a finger at him. “That can’t be right. Harry looks just like his dad—like James. How can Malfoy be his father when he looks like that?”

Hermione sighed and rolled his eyes at him. “Honestly, Ron. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really a wizard or not. Obviously, a spell was placed on Harry to make him look just like James, more than likely to prevent any raised suspensions. A very complex and more than likely dark spell. Probably placed on him while he was still an embryo.”

Ron’s cheeks had been reddening with anger and embarrassment, making his freckles stand out, but now his brow dropped and his cheeks paled in confusion. “Embry—wha’?”

"An _embryo_. That's what you call a baby still in its developmental stages inside of the womb." Hermione said exasperatedly, sighing softly.

Griphook looked at Hermione approvingly. "That's quite right, Ms. Granger. Lord Potter does indeed have a spell placed on him, done so right after he was conceived, by Lucius Malfoy himself—."

Lady Malfoy made herself known once again, still standing. Beside her, Malfoy was trying to get her to sit down. Before she spoke, he had been quietly murmuring to her, more than likely trying to placate her. His pale face had slowly lost its look of horror and was now as impassive as Harry’s, no doubt from many years spent perfecting control over his emotions and facial expression. Something Harry was slowly beginning to learn to do himself.

“Then you’re implying that my husband intended to make a child with that vile woman?”

The goblin shot her a glare. “Not precisely. Lord Potter’s conception was not exactly planned, but neither parents were inclined to…indisposing him. It was in need to be kept in secret that they were having an affair, therefore the spell used.”

Three people kept silently throughout this whole ordeal. Harry, who was trying extremely hard to stay calm so that he didn’t accidentally break something and wake Walburga Black from her portrait; McGonagall, who simply looked lost for words; and Snape, whose expression was rather thoughtful. It was actually him who broke the unsaid pact of silence between the triad.     

“My only concern at the moment is over how exactly this information came into your possession, goblin.” Griphook’s eyebrow twitched, but he stayed silent as Snape spoke. “I am not inclined to believe Lily Potter entrusted you with her admissions.”

Griphook cleared his throat picked up a black, leather bound book. “You are partially correct. For many generations, my family has personally oversaw the assets of the Potter vaults and estates. As is, during her first stages of pregnancy, Lady Potter approached me with the mind of setting up a private account for Lord Potter, and also handling the prepayment of his tuition for Hogwarts. Both processes take much guidance and paperwork, and within that time Lady Potter did in fact develop a sense trust with me. It was only after the paperwork was completely did she approach with the topic we are now discussing. There was something she wanted to leave Lord Potter—this book. It explains everything for you, Lord Potter; a diary of sorts. It was originally supposed to be given to you on your seventeenth name day, but due to circumstance, that was unable to happen. She did, however, want you to know the truth. It was to be given to you by me, should something happen to her that prevented her from doing so. Also, she requested a letter written by her to be read by me, again should she not be available.”  

The goblin paused, waiting for Harry’s approval to read the letter. Harry drew in a deep breath, his expression finally switching to one of contemplation.

“Griphook?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You said…something about a spell? One that…apparently forced my features to grow in such a way that I resembled James?” The goblin nodded. “Is there…a counter spell?”

“Actually, yes. There is a counter spell. A very painful counter spell, as it rebuilds your entire DNA structuring. Not to mention it will also release the bindings on your creature inheritance, doubling the pain.”

Hermione looked up with a frown. “Creature inheritance? I thought the Malfoys were purebloods?”

Griphook raised one bushy eyebrow. "Not quite, Ms. Granger. A very old ancestor of the Malfoys consorted with a veela. In his time, such things as your back round were not an important thing to most. Only few people of the time believed such admonitions as today's society."

The sound in the room was deafening as everyone—save Harry, Griphook, and Snape—stood and began shouting.

"The Malfoys aren't purebloods?" Asked Ron rather gleefully.

“It makes sense! The Malfoys are related to veelas!” Hermione, her eyes lighting up.

"How _dare_ you give away our information like that?!" Lady Malfoy, tone angry and voice icy.

“Wa—wait! Don’t—.” Malfoy, unable to get a word in as he scrambled for something to say.

"Why, oh why did this have to happen to Harry, now of all times?" McGonagall.

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, voice amplified by his uncontrolled magic.

Silence washed through the room as everyone turned to stare at Harry, who was now standing. The paintings in the room crashed to the ground and tea cups cracked open, spilling their contents. It was only by luck that Walburga’s portrait had not awakened. His glare swept across everyone in the room, scorching everyone in its wake—except maybe Snape, who was the only person known to make someone cry/wet their pants with one look.

Harry's voice was deadly quiet. "Griphook." The goblin arched a brow at him. "The letter from my mother. Read it, please."

"Yes of course Mr. Potter."

The goblin reached down to grab a thin sheet of paper with flowing, loopy handwriting from the table. Clearing his voice, Griphook tapped his wand twice on the paper, reciting a quiet spell in garbled Goobledygook. A pale apparition arose, taking the form of one Lily Potter. A quiet gasp forced its way from Harry’s throat as his eyes widened perceptibly. The apparition’s mouth opened and Lily’s lilting voice filled the silent room:

_Dear everyone,_

_I know what you must think of me. I know my actions are inexcusable and I know sorry is no way exception but I must say it: I am sorry. Especially to you Harry, and to you too Sev'. This type of betrayal is the worst and I am really truly sorry. But, alas, I do not regret my actions. The things I felt for Lucius were indeed my own and probably really untoward._

A wry, bitter grin twisted Lily’s nearly flawless features. She continued: 

_Harry, if Sirius and Remus aren't dead, I'm sure they have told you many stories about me and James and I hope they were wonderful tales. But, the truth is that James and I fell out soon after our marriage. Dating was fine, since we both could end it whenever we felt the need. But once married—as we had a wizard's wedding—we realized we were bonded forever and neither of us truthfully wanted that. I began to see other people and so did James. Please, Harry, don't believe I cheated on James—it was a mutual agreement discussed by the both of us. And don't think badly of your actual father, Lucius, please._

_Sev'. Oh, Severus I am so sorry. You don't know. Tears fall down my face as I write this._

Indeed, her face was now awash with tears, her voice becoming slightly warped. She took a moment to wipe away the tears and compose herself.

_You were my best friend and I messed up, thinking you changed just because you were in Slytherin. But in truth, it was I who changed. I grew infatuated with James. I admit, I also felt for Lucius at the time, though then I refused to acknowledge it. You were right the whole time, and I was too stupid and blind to listen to you. I thought of you all the time, however, Sev' and I regret breaking our friendship._

_Draco—_

Here, she paused and bit her lip. 

_Even though I am not your mother, I kindly ask you to treat Harry nicely—he is your brother. And if you won't do it for me, do it for your own pride. If you're anything like your father, you know what I'm talking about._

_Professor McGonagall and Harry’s friends, please treat Harry the way you always have. He is no more or no less the person he was the minute before you found out he was a Malfoy. I ask you to give him the support I'm sure he needs, if he's anything like me._

_Pertaining to the spell on Harry, only a very strong Legillimens master can properly perform the counter curse on him. And there just happens to be a Potions Master present strong enough for it, or at least he better be there. Griphook has been informed of the counter curse. Harry, love, I apologize beforehand, but the process to reveal your original self is a very much painful, due to your father's veela background._

A bright smile lit up her face and she began to wave.

_I wish you all well, and again I apologize,_

**_Lily Potter ne Evans_ **

The apparition slowly dissipated. Silence once again filled the room, almost deafening. All of a sudden Harry’s façade broke, breaking the silence and capturing everyone’s attention.

He sat in his chair once again, with his head down. A sudden shudder shook his whole body and he began to sob quietly, only noticeable by the shaking of his shoulders. Immediately, Hermione rushed forward to rub his back and whisper reassuring nonsense in his ear. Both Narcissa and Malfoy looked impossibly paler than usual. Snape, stoic as usual, was also sitting; eyes closed, lips a tight thin line. McGonagall face had fallen and she seemed deep in thought.

Harry had no other choice than to believe it. There was the hard evidence, in his mother’s on handwriting, her magic signature so similar to his own that he knew deep within that she wrote the letter. Lucius Malfoy was his father. The man his mother apparently loved. He sucked in a gasp as another shudder wrecked his body. The others stayed silent, with the exception of Hermione, who was offering her own comfort with murmured assurances and a warm hand on his back.

This time, it was Draco Malfoy who broke the silence. He cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring his mother’s hushed protests. The others looked at him, but he waited until Harry’s head lifted and red-rimmed green eyes locked with his own silvery blue. He licked his lips, a nervous habit he was trying his damnedness to break, as he attempted to speak.

“I believe…it is time for us to overcome our differences, Pot—.” Harry flinched and Malfoy’s face paled, growing almost translucent. “I—I mean…Ha-Harry.”

Harry’s name sounded weird coming from his long time arch enemy. The last time the blonde ever said his first name was all the way back in their first year. But Harry attempted to smile, though he was sure it was a rather pitiful one.   

“I think you’re right…Draco.”

That was going to take some getting used to, Harry thought silently. The blonde’s name felt weird rolling off his tongue without the accompanying ‘Malfoy’ to dull the effect. Draco himself jerked back a bit in surprise, before composing his features and shooting Harry a playfully haughty glare. The look was so well done that Harry almost believed that Draco was glaring at him until he caught the teasing light in those silver eyes. Everyone else certainly thought it was real, except maybe Snape.

“Of course I am right. Malfoy’s are always right, even when we are in actual fact wrong. And sit up straight. How dare you slouch? Every dead Malfoy in existence must be turning in their graves from your improper mannerisms.”

“Well, every dead Malfoy in existence needs to mind their own damn business—they’re dead.” Harry scoffed out, but straightened in his seat nonetheless. It was an ingrained habit of his to follow orders, something he did if he didn’t pay conscience attention to what he was doing.  His mood lightened without his noticing, a fact Hermione did not fail to miss.

She looked up sharply at Draco, whose lips tilted in a satisfied smirk as he too caught on to Harry’s brighter mood. Taking on the responsibility of a big brother already, Malfoy, she thought with a smirk of her own. With Harry no longer needing her support, she rather reluctantly returned to the couch beside Ron. The tall red head wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. Draco noticed from his peripheral, frowning slightly with disapproval—and maybe a bit of jealously—but otherwise returning his attention to Harry.

“Touché, Harry, touché.”

Everyone looked at this in silence, many eyebrows rising past hairlines. Lady Malfoy was frozen with shock, her face screwed with anger and her eyes full of wrath. McGonagall said nothing, watching the exchange with a sigh; her thoughts were on her poor Gryffindor who was about to be victimized to the manipulations of the Slytherins. Snape arched a brow, and anyone could see the approval in his eyes if they took the chance and had the bravery to look closely enough. Griphook was more obvious with his approval, nodding at the two with encouraging noises. The bantering was nonetheless strange in the somber mood, especially between the two ex-nemeses, but no one wanted to stop them and risk Harry’s mood dropping again. That is, until Ron interrupted.

The redhead shoved Hermione away from him to stand, his furious blue gaze flicking back and forth from Harry to Draco and back again. “So that’s it then? You two are just going to get all buddy-buddy now?”

“Ron, things change—.” Harry tried.

“You can’t just get rid of eight years of hate, Harry!”

"As much as I loathe to say it, Weasel, yes there is eight years of unresolved resentment between us. Po—…Harry and I are brothers now, however, and I will treat him accordingly, as is what is only right." Malfoy said, with a glance at his mother. Narcissa Malfoy remained silent, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Yeah, Ron. 'S kind of different now. I'm sure even if we weren't brothers, we would have worked out our differences eventually." Harry said, sending a grin at Malfoy, who returned it with a lighthearted sneer.

Ron looked stricken, "Harry, it’s bad enough being a Malfoy now. You don't have to pretend to actually like one. Especially that git."

Draco stood quickly, glaring down at Ron. "What's wrong with being a Malfoy, _Weasel_? It is not like your rodent family could compare to us."

Harry sucked in a sharp gas, sharing a look with Hermione. They both knew what was going to happen next. Ron stood, forcing Draco to look up. While Draco was tall, Ron nearly dwarfed him. He pushed Draco back, the element of surprise and Draco’s slight build providing no resistance against the force, and he fell flat on his ass.

"Don't. Ever. Insult. My family. Again." Ron shouted, red-faced.

Malfoy looked up at Ron incredulously. Slowly, his face began to flush in dark anger and he stood quick and graceful, pulling out his wand in one single fluid motion and pointing it at Ron.

"You will regret ever doing that, Weasel." He gritted out.

Worried for his friend’s health, Harry jumped up. "Wait, Draco! Don't hurt him."

Harry knew better than anyone how powerful Draco was. Years of flying hexes and trips to the infirmary made sure of that. He also knew that back then Draco was holding back so that he wouldn’t get suspended; something Harry himself did. Ron had not pulled out his wand; from his expression it was most likely because he was afraid of what Draco would do if he did. Draco still had his wand trained on Ron. Hermione made no move to help, her expression easily revealing that she believed that Ron needed a good ass kicking to lower his pride a few notches.

The raven tried again, taking a few steps forward. "Draco, please."

A moment of silence passed. The tension in the room was palpable, making it almost hard to breath. No one stood to help, other than Harry. Everyone was fed up with Ron’s attitude and the only reason why Harry was helping was because he still believed Ron was the friend he knew from their first year. Slowly, Draco's wand lowered until it pointed at the floor. The blonde sighed and sent a weak glare at Harry, who grinned at him. With the wand lowered, Ron's confidence—or rather arrogance as everyone in the room believed—returned.

"Giving up so easily, are you Malfoy? Cowardly as always, all you Slytherins are—." Draco's fist connected with Ron's nose in a punch so fast, no one but Harry—with his quick, seeker eyes—could see it.

A collective gasp went throughout the room as blood spurted from Ron's nose and this time it was he who fell on his ass. Hermione covered her snicker with a cough behind her hand, though Snape was a lot more obvious with his amused snort. Ron looked up at Draco disbelievingly and Harry felt a sudden sense of pride swell up for his brother. It was not easy knocking over Ron with one punch. Then Ron turned to Harry, who recoiled at the nasty sight of slightly mucus-y blood covering the lower half of Ron’s face. The bright red blood contrasted horribly with his hair and freckles.

“Habry, dis git jus’ punshed meb!” Ron spluttered out, waving one hand comically around as his other hand occupied itself with holding his nose.

Draco snorted. “Astute observation, Weasel.”

Harry swallowed his own chuckle and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “So he did, Ron.”

Ron stared incredulously at him. Hermione was no longer able to hold in her giggles, a delicate snort coming from her throat as she fell on her side in laughter. She was ignored, only for the reason that everyone was focused at Harry and Ron. More blood gushed down Ron’s face as his anger grew, his increasing heartbeat causing his blood to flow faster. It looked broken to Harry.

“Habry…he punshed meb an’ yer no’ goin’ tah do nobing?”

“Well…” Harry shrugged. “You did kind of deserve it.”

"Habry, dis git punched meb an’ ya tell meb I deserbed it?” Ron scrambled up, his face dark with anger…though that might have been the blood. “Wha's happened tah ya? Ya're becombing more like dem a’reaby!"

"What?” Harry glared at him incredulously. “Ron, everyone in this room knows you deserved it! First, you insult the Malfoy name for no reason. Then, after Draco already spared you from a hex that would have sent you to hell and back, and then right back to hell again, you insult him straight in the face!” He snorted. “Technically, you deserve more than a punch to the face! And what do you mean I'm becoming more like them? Like who? All I know is that I'm no one but Harry. J. Pot—." Suddenly, Harry's face crumpled and he sagged back into his chair. A sob escaped his throat and his body shook violently.

Draco scowled. Just when he got Harry into a better mood, the stupid Weasel had to go and ruin it. Said Weasel stared at Harry for a brief moment, no guilt on his face or in his eyes, before muttering 'wimp' and running out. Draco sent a quick and nasty hex after him—smirking slightly as he heard a yelp—and hurried over to Harry. Staring hesitantly down at his brother, Draco did not know what to do. His hands hovered anxiously over Harry's back, twitching with the need to help him. Growing up in a very household that abided by the creed of every man to himself left Draco a not very consoling type person.

He jumped slightly as warm hands laid over his, gently pushing them down out Harry's back. He looked up into the understanding, warm brown eyes of Hermione Granger. She smiled at Draco encouragingly, amking his heart thump loudly. He swallowed and began to tentatively rub soothing circles in Harry's back, mimicking her actions earlier. Hermione's smile grew and she bent over to speak softly into the melancholy raven’s ear.

All of a sudden, Lady Malfoy cleared her throat loudly, effectively catching the attention of everyone but Harry, who was still unresponsive. She sniffed daintily at him and then turned to Griphook. The goblin arched a brow at her haughty expression.

"I do not believe words on a silly paper, no matter who wrote it.” She fluttered her hands at Griphook. “Is there a way to prove these claims, goblin?"

Griphook’s scaly, lipless mouth thinned and he glared at Lady Malfoy. Snape snorted and muttered something about the tempers of goblins. Draco and Hermione focused on reviving Harry, who was steadily going in a downward spiral of depression. As he wasn’t well versed on mastering his expressions, Harry couldn’t just recall his blank look from earlier after it broke the first time.

"Actually, I was just about to get to that, Lady Malfoy. Lady Potter requested beforehand to prepare a Blood Tree parchment for those exact reasons." He turned to Harry, who looked dully at the goblin, his awareness briefly restored by Draco and Hermione's combined efforts. Griphook hesitantly pushed a parchment towards him, not wanting to trigger a bad reaction from the star-crossed youth.

The parchment itself was unusual. Deep black in color, it curled slightly at the edges; giving an almost sinister look to it. But what surprised most was not the parchment but the blood quill that lay atop it. It was dark red in color, the vein in the middle of the feather pale and empty, the dark magic behind the utensil restricting it to only write in the blood of the holder. Blood quills were very rare and forbidden unless in ultimately necessary circumstances. The only way to get one was through the Ministry or through Gringotts.

Griphook spoke carefully. "Lord Potter. If you would please sign your full name on the parchment with the blood quill. At the bottom, please"

Nodding mechanically, Harry reached for the quill, gripping it tightly. He was not unfamiliar with blood quills. Umbridge, the evil bitch, forced it on him as punishment years ago. Harry looked down at the black paper, suddenly dreading the results. It's not that he didn't believe his mother, but to see it, for there to be valid proof….Harry didn't think he could do it.

Snape sent a half-hearted, weary glare at him. "Just do it already, dammit."

Harry stared at his old professor in surprise. The brooding man never cursed unless pushed to the edge, preferring to insult others using complex words that nearly meant the same thing and made the victim feel stupid at the same time. Harry felt ready to just explode with a curse of his own. Feeling a sudden bond with the distressed Potions Master, Harry hurriedly wrote his name across the bottom of the parchment.

Slight pain shot through from Harry’s fingers, into his hand and up his arm as his name appeared on the back his hand, exactly as he wrote it on the parchment. But the pain was disregarded as flowing red lines appeared on the parchment above Harry's name as soon as he finished the last letter in Black.

The lines began to form words, a separate line connecting Harry's name to them. Faster and faster, the words—no, names—appeared till the whole page was filled. Indeed, Harry's blood line was extensive, from both sides of his family. But it was only three names, ones above Harry's own, that everyone could not tear their eyes from.

Below it read:

_James Remulus Potter (pureblood descent)=Lily Rose Potter (squib-born and pureblood descent)—Lucius Scorpius Malfoy (veela and pureblood descent)_

*Imagine a line right here going down*

_Harry J. Potter bar Black (veela and pureblood descent)_

The slightly lighter red names of Lily and James indicated that they were dead, given that Lucius' and Harry's were a darker shade and both were currently alive. Between James and Lily's names was a red double hash mark, representing their marriage. Between Lily and Lucius' names was a red single hash mark…their affair apparently. And straight under that single hash mark, a single red line led to Harry's name.

Draco broke the stunned silence. "Well, there is your answer, mother. Harry is indeed my half-brother.”

Lady Malfoy’s face was sallow, her eyes flickering with anger and something…else. It sent shivers down Harry’s back. Something dark. She whirled around, exiting the room. A moment later, the front door of number twelve slammed, the tremor from the strength behind it finally waking Walburga and the portraited woman began to scream about ‘dirty, filthy Mudbloods being her home, desecrating the Black legacy and whatnot’. Harry sighed, ignoring the screaming woman in turn to address the others in the room.

“Thank you, Griphook, for coming to tell me this. And everyone else—thanks for coming to, even though you could’ve have rejected. I—.” He shuddered and a haunted look appeared in his eyes. “I think I need to be alone for a little while.”

Hermione stepped forward to rest a concerned hand on Harry’s arm. “Are you sure you need to be alone, Harry?”

Harry paused, before nodding his head firmly. “Yeah. I need to…think. Wrap my head around this, and figure out what I’m going to do.”

She eyed him for a moment before sighing, knowing that she would not be able to change his mind. “Alright, Harry. Firecall me if you need anything—I finally convinced my parents to let me register our fireplace to the Floo network. The address is Tooth Fairy.”

Harry grinned lightly. “Okay.”

The two hugged and Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek before leaving. Griphook came forward and shook his hand.

“Your mother was a good woman, Lord Potter. I recommend that you do not look down on her for what she did. She loved Lucius Malfoy and she loved you as well.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I know…thank you, Griphook.”

“You are most welcome, Lord Potter.” Then the goblin was gone.

A slightly awkward silence permitted the room. Snape was now standing, regarding Harry with his black, unreadable eyes. The look made Harry fidget with the need to straighten his clothing and fix his bird’s nest atop his head. Draco also fidgeted, but with the nervousness of someone who knew not how to show affection but wanting sorely to do so. He swallowed hard and stepped towards Harry.

“Harry…this will probably sound a bit strange but you are welcome to come with me. I…you are my brother now, Harry, and I will take care of you. I can promise you that.”

Harry’s grin was wobbly and his eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, Draco.”

Before Draco lost his nerve, he leaned forward and pulled Harry into a hug. The raven stiffened for a moment, in surprise, before he relaxed and returned Draco’s hug. To Harry, the blonde smelled like lavender, rain, and home. He didn’t know how to describe what ‘home’ smelled like exactly, but he knew that where ever Draco was, that was where ‘home’ would be. He took in a deep breath and tightened his grip around Draco. The blonde blinked, but also tightened his own hold and buried his face in Harry’s hair.

From his position at the side of the embracing brothers, Snape’s eyebrows were risen in shock. His expression stayed otherwise impassive. It was, however, amusing to see the two hugging with their contrasting heights; Draco a good head and shoulders taller with his height of over six feet. Then the two separated and Harry nonchalantly brushed the tears from his eyes before they could fall. He smiled up at Draco, who returned it and looked over at Snape.    

“Let’s go, Severus.”

Snape sighed softly through his nose, before glancing at Harry. “Boy…”

“Professor.” Harry’s gaze flickered down Snape’s physique. “I see you are doing much better. That’s good.”

“Yes…” Snape snorted. “That infernal phoenix was great help. The tears of a phoenix—.”

“Negate the poison of basilisk venom.” Harry said softly, brushing his fingers across his arm where a small, silvery scar was all that was left from his adventuring in his second year. “I am well aware.”

“Hn. Do not give into your sorrow, boy, it will not do anyone well if you do. Draco.” With a snap of his cloak, Snape was out of the room.

Draco shot Harry a grin, snickering at the raven’s bewildered expression. “Welcome to the family, Harry.”

And the blonde was gone. Harry was left slightly confused, but with a warm feeling in his chest. He now had a family. Not one he would have expected, but a family no less.

Walburga, who had quieted briefly, gave a particularly loud screech. Harry jumped, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs, and scowled in the general direction of the portrait.

“Damned woman…” He stomped off to try to close her curtains.


	2. The Beginning of a New Life

Villa de Malfoy, located on a private island of the coast of France, was an exceptionally built house. More like a mini-manor than anything, it was a very open estate, with majority of its walls replaced as large windows and the rooms immense with large archways as doors.

Immediately after the elaborately designed glass front doors were too broad, sweeping stairways, one leading to the east of the building, and the other to the west. The east wing was left to Draco, where his rooms, a private library, his potions lab and two guest bedrooms were located.

The west wing belonged to Narcissa and, had he not been in Azkaban but there with them, Lucius. Down that wing were the master bedroom, another private library, two more guest bedrooms, and a room Lucius kept tightly locked that Narcissa had never been able to enter.

Right in between the staircases was a large archway the lead out to the spread of the rest of the building. To the left of the archway was a hall that lead to the vast library, extensive kitchens, and a downstairs bathroom. To the right was an immediate sitting room that had another archway on the opposite wall that lead to the porch outside. Beyond the porch was a vast garden boasting bright flowers with large petals, herbs that released spicy and sweet scents, and other aesthetic pleasures such as statues and fountains.

Located in the sitting room were Draco and his mother, Narcissa.

Draco watched, worry darkening his silvery blue eyes, as his mother paced angrily. He was sitting in the chair closest to the door, as that was where he ended up when he noticed her stalking about the room. She did not respond when he called for her attention, muttering furiously to herself. He was worried she was going insane.

A house elf popped out of nowhere, startling Draco, with a cup of tea balanced on a small saucer. "Tiny has brought Master Draco tea, sir."

"Oh…thank you, Tiny." Draco smiled weakly at the elf, carefully taking the cup and saucer from her even though he had not asked for it. Unused to such treatment, Tiny's eyes widened and she apparated from the room with a small 'eep!'.

Sipping the tea, chamomile he guessed from the smell and taste, Draco watched his mother from the corner of his eye. She was muttering again, and wringing her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and her skin was paler than usual. Draco knew that she had not gone to sleep the night before, simply because he could hear her moving around, smashing and breaking things and cursing in a way unacceptable for a Malfoy. She also did not eat breakfast. Sighing, he put down his teacup and stood.

"Mother…please, sit down. Have some tea." This time, he got a reaction.

"Sit down?" She said in a deadly calm voice, eyes flashing. "Drink tea? Draco Malfoy, if you do not leave me be, I will not hesitated to hex you straight to St. Mungos. Am I understood?"

He swallowed and stood. "Yes, mother. Excuse me."

"Do not walk away from me, Draco Malfoy!" His mother whipped out her wand and threw a nasty curse at Draco, which he had to quickly dodge. It was not the first time she had tried to curse him.

Whirling away, he quickly walked from the room, eyes burning and tea forgotten. How could she just suddenly begin to treat him like this? So what if Lucius cheated on her? It was not like she did not do the same, and besides, they both knew Lucius was far from an honorable man. Could his actions really send her to madness? Was she confused as to why Lucius cheated on her with a mud—a muggleborn? It certainly baffled Draco of what Lily Potter saw in his father.

Or maybe there is a different, much larger, reason behind why they were together. Was it possible? Was Lily Potter Lucius'—?

No, it could not be possible. Lucius would have gone insane after Lily died. Though…Draco would have only been one at the time. How did he not know if his own father had been slowly sinking into a despaired madness? It would certainly explain a few things. Draco's shoulders slumped as he walked, and he let out a long sigh.

Just then, he passed by a fireplace, and an idea made itself known in his head. The issue with his mother briefly forgotten, Draco smirked a bit and approached the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and tossing it into the fire. Maybe he could take the opportunity to get to know his little brother better.

"Grimmauld Place."

~oOo~

The next morning, Harry woke up with a clearer head than the evening before.

He sat up slowly and looked out the window. The sun was well into the sky, marking the time as closer to the afternoon than morning, as Harry first believed. A frown graced his lips; he usually never slept so late into the day. Not since he was on the run with Hermione and Ron from Voldemort. He had an excuse for such laziness, as he believed it to be; the day before left him physically, emotionally, and mentally tired. His body was trying to recuperate after such an impactful say such as yesterday.

With a drawn sigh, Harry slid from his bed and stretched. The crisp, cold air of winter immediately penetrated his body, seeping the warmth from his bare skin. He shivered slightly as goosebumps arose on his arms and his nipples hardened to little nubs. Instead of climbing back into the warmth of his bed, as he so wanted to, he took a deep breath, drawing the cold air into his lungs and holding it there.

After a moment, he let it out slowly, allowing his magic to trickle out from his core at the same time. He grinned when he felt his magic tingle under his skin, warming his body.

Almost immediately, his goosebumps disappeared. It was a little trick he figured out on accident one morning camping out with Hermione and Ron. Out in the woods, it was freezing cold at night and in the mornings, no matter the season, and while Harry did enjoy the cool temperatures, he eventually got fed up.

His stomach suddenly grumbled, reminding him that he went to bed last night without any dinner. He sighed and padded from his room to downstairs, in the kitchen. After a few grumbles about a particular stupid, useless house elf, Harry began to make himself breakfast. Tea, coffee, orange juice, pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns and a few other things he felt in the mood to eat was soon on the table.

He felt a brief sense of vague gratitude towards the Durselys for forcing him to cook their meals since he could reach over the stove. Hadn't they done so, he would be starving, as Kreacher refused to cook him any meals. In fact, the house elf refused to do anything.

So immersed in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice when his fireplace flared, but he did hear the familiar voice call out his name. Pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth, he blinked and looked up.

Was that…Draco?

He put the fork down and stood, poking his head out from the dining room. Indeed, Draco was standing in the living room, dusting off his robes as he looked around curiously. Harry grinned and fully stepped out of the dining room into the living room.

"Hey, Draco."

The blonde looked over and smirked. "Now, now Harry. I am your brother, not your lover. Go put a shirt on, or something."

"Wha—." Harry's cheeks heated as he looked down, and he stuck his tongue out at Draco, turning for the stairs. He looked over his shoulder as he headed up. "There's food in the dining room, and tea or other drinks. Kreacher doesn't listen to me, but he might listen to you. Since you're a pureblood and a descendant of the 'Most Ancient and Noble Black family' and everything."

Draco frowned. "He does not feel the urge to punish himself for disobeying you?"

"No." Harry stopped and shook his head. "He's batshit crazy and believes that Walburga Black is still alive. Not that she's helping any, putting herself in that huge portrait and having an unstickable charm put on the frame so that she could yell at whoever she wants, whenever she wants."

"Harsh."

"You don't know the half of it." The two grinned at each other for a moment, then Harry looked down. "I'll go put on a shirt now."

Draco snorted. "You do that."

"I will as soon as you stop bitching." Harry ran up the stairs before Draco could send a hex his way. And also to hide the huge smile making its way on his face.

He couldn't explain it, but he just knew that he and Draco had bonded very quickly. Maybe it was because they already knew each other for seven years. Maybe it was because their veelas recognized him as brothers. Harry paused in the middle of pulling his shirt down.

Veelas…

He was a veela. Or rather, he was going to be one, as soon as the spell was reversed. Draco was a veela. Lucius was a veela. His real family, a family of veelas.

Death Eater or not, Lucius was still his father and like it or not he was going to get used to it. The man was his family, his blood. He wondered if he could possibly visit Lucius in Azkaban…If he could, he would go soon after he went through his transformations. Even if he had to throw his name around a little.

Satisfied with his decision, Harry finished changing and went downstairs, where he found Draco in the dining room with a cup of coffee. He arched a brow, but said nothing as he sat down across from the blonde—where his still full plate was—and continued to eat. Draco gave him a glare.

"What?"

Harry looked up innocently. "What, what?"

"You know what!" Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why did you look at me like that?"

"Like what?" Harry asked, suppressing his laugh. Draco growled in response, returning to his coffee.

"Insufferable git."

"Why thank you, Draco, I didn't know you were capable of giving compliments."

"Ugh!"

Before either of them could say anything else, a loud bell began to ring, a continuous ring that counted twelve times before stopping. Harry startled out of his seat, quickly swishing his wand so that all his dishes floated into the kitchen. He left the dining room swiftly, Draco hot on his heels.

"Harry, where are you going?"

"The kids—oh, come on."

"What kids?"

Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and he dragged the blonde to the room where he could best see the children playing. They were just trickling out of their houses, high-pitched laughter quickly filling the air as the children greeted each other and began playing. Harry gestured for Draco to be quiet when the blonde opened his mouth, putting his hand on the cold glass window in reverence.

"I wonder what it's like. Being so carefree, so…happy, when you're that young."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He had also been deprived of such a happy-go-lucky childhood—as most pureblood children were—and therefore couldn't explain anything to Harry. They were the same in that sense, never having the opportunity to act their age, though the reasons behind why were different.

"Though to tell the truth, I wouldn't like to be like that very much." Harry admitted.

"Why not?" Draco asked, head tilting to the side.

"Because I don't want such false innocence in the world we live in. Should something bad happen, it could drastically change everything for you; you'd be bitter and cynical. But if you already expect such things, because you know how the world is, that wouldn't be an issue. At least, not as big of an issue."

"How pessimistic of you, Harry."

The raven shrugged. "Don't tell me you're any different."

"No, I agree with you." Draco smirked. "I imagine Dumbledore is rolling in his grave right now. What, with his Golden Boy talking such a way."

"I was nothing more than a tool for Dumbledore." Harry snorted. "A pawn in his game of chess."

"All of my Slytherins were wondering when you would realize that." Draco shook his head.

"What?"

Draco looked at him incredulously. "Did you think you could hide it from us, Harry? You have more Slytherin attributes than you do Gryffindor. Granted, you do jump into dangerous situations head-first, but I think that has more to do with your hero-complex disorder above anything."

Harry flushed and scratched the back of his neck. "So then you know that the Sorting Hat wanted to originally put me in Slytherin, then?"

"No, I did not know that precisely. I only knew that your personality did not fit your House very well." Draco frowned. "How did you end up in Gryffindor?"

"Well, I kind of convinced it to put me there." Harry smiled ruefully. "Ron was the very first friend I ever made, and I was eager to please him. He told me that all the bad people went to Slytherin, and that it was an evil House. I panicked when the Hat told me I would be good in Slytherin, and convinced it to put me in Gryffindor, the supposed 'light' House."

"How interesting…" Draco said with a considering look on his face as he stared at Harry.

A happy shriek caught their attention, and the two turned to see the children in a furious battle of snowballs. Harry grinned and shook his head.

"That is all I wanted to show you. Come on; we can go back into the kitchen."

Once settled down, the both of them sipping tea, Harry took the moment to ask Draco a question that was bugging him since the blonde appeared.

"Draco, are you okay? You look a little pale, and there are bags under your eyes."

The blonde sighed, setting down his tea and crossing his legs. "I believe mother is in the process of going insane. Since yesterday she has been…doing very unbecoming things. All last night, she was up throwing things and cursing throughout the halls. And this morning, she was up pacing and muttering to herself."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Do you think it is because of…you know, me?"

"No!" Draco said vehemently. "Do not blame her actions on yourself, Harry. Whatever she is going through is from an accumulation of things over the years. Do not go thinking it was your fault."

Harry's head dropped. "Sorry."

"Do not apologize to me, Harry." Draco swiftly got up and kneeled in front of Harry, using the tip of his fingers to gently tilt the raven's head up. "Just do not blame yourself for things other people have done."

"Okay." Harry snorted as a thought popped into his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when Draco Malfoy was nice to me."

Draco smirked. "Well, we are brothers now, are we not?"

"Now? When were we not?"

"Good point; when we  _realized_ we were brothers."

The two shared a grin. Then Harry's lips straightened as he reached out and touched Draco's cheek. It was the first time he ever saw Draco smile. A real, genuine smile. It reminded Harry of just how many were actually very genuine with him. Unfortunately, it was a very small number.

"Harry?" Draco said, concern lacing his words.

Harry pulled away. "I'm fine."

"But—."

"What is being a veela like?" Harry abruptly asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

Draco's lips tightened, but he let the subject go. "Would you like to see my true form?"

When the raven nodded eagerly, Draco stood and took deep breath. A soft light surrounded him, growing brighter by the second until was too bright to the point that Harry had to close his eyes. When the light faded, he opened his eyes and promptly gasped at the sight before him.

He never saw anything so beautiful. Draco's skin looked like as if it was bathed in liquid moonlight; his hair—now an almost molten silver-like color—fell straight down his back to his waist. With his eyes open, Harry could see that Draco's icy blue orbs were now had a silverish tinge to them, and glowed slightly. Even standing still, Draco gave off a sense of gracefulness that one would not be able to accomplish in a lifetime.

But the extraordinary thing that caught Harry's attention were the glowing platinum silver wings flaring out behind Draco. Sixteen feet of honest to god  _wings._ Harry gulped and stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch one. He hesitated, looking at Draco as if for permission. The blonde nodded slightly and Harry gently touched the feathered limb.

 _Oh_ , he thought as he felt along the wing. It was warm to the touch and softer than anything Harry ever felt. A slight shiver vibrated the wing under his hand and he looked towards Draco questioningly.

"They are sensitive." He shrugged.

Harry lifted his hand, not wanting to hurt the blond, but not before giving the wing another gentle caress. "They're  _beautiful."_

"They are actually very plain for a veela. But that is because I am a dominant, we tend to not have very colorful wings. It is the submissive who have the more intricate, beautiful feathers; to attract mates."

"Dominant? Submissive?" Harry tilted his head in confusion.

"Ah yes, you do not know." Draco stayed in his veela form, but retracted his wings as he sat down beside Harry. "There are two different types of veelas; the dominate and the submissive. Neither is gender restricted, but there are very few female dominates, and even fewer male submissives. The dominate is…how do I say—the dominate is the provider of the family; the father-figure, relatively speaking. The submissive, on the other hand—."

"Is the mother-figure?" Harry guessed.

"Of a sort, yes." Draco nodded in approval. "The submissive does give birth to young, even the males. Unlike other species, however, veela submissives are not weak. Quite the opposite, in fact. Submissives are stronger than dominates actually."

"Really?" Harry gaped. "Why?"

Draco shrugged, smiling down at Harry. "Children." He simply stated. At Harry's confused expression, he continued.

"The submissive carries the babe, raises it, protects it. It isn't a sexist issue. A dominant will equally protect the family, but veela-wise, the dominants' instincts are to hunt and mark territory. A submissive stays home, so if a predator appears and the dominant isn't there—which he, or she, most likely won't be—it is up to the submissive to protect their young."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

"Indeed. Is there anything else you would like to know?"

"Am I a dominate or submissive veela?"

"Ah." Draco frowned. "We will not know until you go through your inheritance. We should definitely get in contact with Severus about that, immediately."

Harry frowned. "Oh. How can you tell the difference?"

"Between a dominate and submissive?" Draco continued at Harry's nod. "The most obvious is their wings; a dominate will usually have feathers of only one color and either little to no designs on them, while a submissive tend to have between three to five different colored feathers and very complex designs. I do in fact have designs on my wings, but they are small and white, therefore hard to notice."

"Cool."

"Another noticeable difference is the size of the fangs and the sharpness of the nails." Draco continued. "Submissives have larger and sharper fangs, and extremely sharp nails. Veela's don't have claws, but nails that are sharp as razors. They only sharpen, however, when the veela is aggravated, so there is no worry of someone getting accidentally hurt."

"Oh, good." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Is there…anything else I should now?"

A thoughtful look came over Draco's face. "At the moment, not that I can say. I do not want to overwhelm you, so the rest can wait until later. Some things, however, you will have to learn yourself."

Harry groaned. "Merlin."

"You will be fine. As soon as you are restored to your original self, anyway. Now that I think about it…" Draco stood. "Shall we send a letter to Severus? Or would you prefer to just Floo over?"

"Floo would probably be best. He's probably locked himself in his potions lab." Harry also stood.

Draco laughed. "Most likely."

The two walked out of the room, as it did not have a fireplace, and quickly crossed through the house to the sitting room. Draco, being the person who knew where Severus lived, took the honors to go first by grabbing a handful of Floo powder and throwing it into the fire.

"Prince Manor."

Harry arched a brow as he grabbed his own handful of the green powder. He knew the story behind Snape and his true heritage, but would have never expected the man to embrace it, as seemed apparent by the fact that he was staying in the manor belonging to the wizarding side of his family. For some reason, Harry had expected the Potions Master to be a little more resentful, as was such with Voldemort. Then again, he never knew what to expect out of the enigmatic Severus Snape.

~oOo~

Severus Snape paced his room, apparently deep in thought. A thoughtful look stretched his face and his eyes saw something far away, in a different time...

_"Sev'! Hurry up" An impatient Lily called to the dark haired boy. Only at the age 11, Lily was a beauty; everyone knew that she would grow into a stunning young lady._

_Not quite the fiery red it would later be when Lily grew older, her hair was a deep auburn; a few strands hinting to the brighter red of her later years. Upon her face laid two of the brightest, shiniest emeralds ever in existence of which with one glance would make one feel as if she could see directly into your soul. A small pixie like nose-slightly upturned-sat above plump pink lips that were at the moment turned in a half smile-half frown as Lily urged young Severus to keep up._

_23 years prior made none the difference for the young man other than his hair, not quite yet affected by the harsh chemicals of potions, which fell in gentle waves to his shoulders. His hooked nose was considerably less prominent but his deep onyx eyes already gained its scathing glare that would send many to tears in their later years. But now, his eyes held warmth as he gazed at the young girl before him; the love he knew would never be reciprocated the only thing that softened his harshness._

_"Come on, Sev'! We're going to be wizards! We have to tell the whole world!" Lily cried at him._

_As their birthdays were on the same day—June 1st—Lily and Severus received their letter of acceptance to Hogwarts on the exact same day, at the exact same time. Young Snape always knew he was to be a wizard as he was a half-blood due to his mother, but Lily knew nothing of the wizarding world and was extremely ecstatic to find out she was a witch._

_Now the young duo made their way up the small cliff that resided somewhere between their houses. It was Lily's idea to climb the cliff and scream into the wind, to 'announce to the world that they were wizards'. To Severus it was a stupid idea, but he would anything to make Lily happy. So, like a good little love-sick puppy, he followed her all the way to the top of the cliff and now stood next to the now impatient Lily, who wanted him to do as she did and scream into the wind, 'I AM A WIZARD!'._

_Again, Severus thought the idea was stupid, but did whatever Lily wanted of him. If she asked him to jump off this very cliff, he would've done it no questions asked. Therefore, with a resolved mind, Severus took a deep breath and leaned forward—_

Suddenly, Severus jumped; snapping out of his memory. A noise caught his attention. It sounded like the whoosh of the Floo. He stood inhumanly still for a moment, eyes narrowed and ears focused. And then again, the Floo flared again, followed immediately by a thump and a loud curse. Then laughter.

Suspicion filled him, and the dark-eyed man quickly left his room and went down stairs. He went straight to his sitting room, where the only active Floo was located. Inside, he found a laughing Draco, accompanied by a grumbling Pot—the boy dusting his clothes off.

"It's not funny, Draco." The boy snapped, looking up to glare at said blonde.

"It was  _definitely_ funny."

"No way. Merlin, you're annoying."

Draco stopped laughing. "Me? You are the bloody Gryffidor."

"Hey! We talked about that already!" The boy's face went red.

Taking this as his cue to enter, before a fight could break out in his house, Severus stepped fully into the room and cleared his throat loudly. Both jumped and whirled around, wands raised, to find Severus staring at them in amusement; a single eyebrow raised as if to say  _what are you going to do?_

Draco was first to calm and lower his wand with a sheepish look before glancing at the boy and elbowing him in the ribs. The boy glanced back at Draco before also lowering his hand and stepping back with an equally sheepish look on his face.

For a second or so, Severus—possibly for the first time in his life—was shocked almost speechless. Standing beside each other, Draco and the boy could just about be twin brothers. Excluding their difference in height, hair and eye color, they were nearly one in the same.

Slight, lithe builds—perfect for the seeker positions both owned—where as Draco was taller by a good head and shoulders at 6'2 while the boy only stood at probably around 5'5, maybe 5'6. In 6th year, the boy began to grow his hair out, therefore forcing it to lie down, to just past his shoulders and framed his face perfectly; the same as Draco but lacking the natural curl to the ends as the boy had—and the drastic difference in color. The hair drew you to look to their face, both of which had a heart shape.

Though the eyes shared different colors, the shape stayed the same and were almost identical. The same straight, only slightly just upturned nose centered their faces and sat over the same pouty, bow shaped lips—the boy's were a darker red where Draco's were a light pink. The sheepish look they now shared only highlighted their similarities.

Their stances were nearly the same—both had an unconscious confidence about them that straightened their backs and raised their heads high, even when chastised. Clearly, Lucius wasn't as skillful as he thought in charms, or the charm itself couldn't prevent the boy's natural features from growing as he grew older.

Draco cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Uncle Severus, it is good to see you."

Severus arched a brow. "You saw me just yesterday, Draco."

"Excuse me for trying to greet you properly." Draco huffed, then glanced at Harry. "Um…I brought Harry with me. Harry—."

"Hey, am I right here." The boy snapped once again before turning to Severus. "Hello Professor."

"Boy." Severus nodded his head in greeting.

Draco spoke up once again. "I figured it would be easier if we came here, Severus. Harry's place is less than appealing, and mother is currently having a lapse in sanity…"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should pay her a visit, then."

"No! I mean, that would not be smart at the moment, Severus. She is grief-struck and will not recognize anyone. Merlin knows how many nasty hexes I had to dodge just to bring her food, which she will not eat. I thank Salazar that I am such an excellent seeker."

A snort from the boy brought the stares of both Severus and Draco. He stood slightly behind Draco and off to the side, now leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and a smirk in place with a raised eyebrow.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the boy. "What was that?"

"What was what?" The boy said, feigning innocence.

"That snort." Draco pointed out.

"I heard no such thing." The boy said smoothly.

"Lair."

"Prove it."

"Severus heard it to."

"He did not."

"How would you know?!" Draco burst out.

"Because there was no snort in the first place." The boy smirked.

 _Well played_ , Severus could not help but think. It was slightly confusing, as that cunning was meant for Slytherins and the boy was anything but in his opinion.

Draco sputtered for a second before growling at the boy, who only widened his smirk into a grin.

"Alright, alright. I did snort. But only because we both know who the better seeker is." His statement caught the interest of Severus, who focused his eyes on the boy.

Neither Lucius nor Lily were much of quidditch players—Draco's skill came from hard work and determination as Narcissa was horrid at the sport—but the boy seemed to have a natural inner ability to catch the snitch. Previously it was believed to be genetics because of James' excellent seeker ability, but James is not the boy's father. Not to mention, the boy was twice as good on a bad day as James on his best, of which even James' die-hard fans had to agree with.

"Damn you, Harry I ought to kill you one day." Draco pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry, who only raised an eyebrow and drew his grin back into a smirk.

Severus could not believe that the two went straight from actually trying to kill each other to such playful, brotherly banter in less than 24 hours. But maybe even their school rival was only an unconscious sibling rivalry, as the two were only a few months apart—the boy's birthday on July 31st and Draco's on June 5th.

But it was time to put an end to this. Severus cleared his throat. "What, pray tell, would be easier if you two came here?"

The two shared a look. The boy then looked at Snape almost...shyly?

"Professor…" He hesitated for a moment, looking down, then looked back at Severus determinedly. "Professor, about the spell placed on me…My mother said that you could break it. That is...i—if you don't mind."

_Dammit. I forgot about that buggering spell. Damn you Lucius, and you to Lily._

_"_ Of course, boy." The Potions Master sighed. "I presume you have access to this spell?"

The boy's face brightened slightly before he nodded enthusiastically. "Griphook showed it to me in my mother's diary. It has the spell L-Lucius used and the counter curse, and how to do it properly. I read through and realized why a proficient Legimins master would be required. It takes unwavering concentration and a strong will." A look came over the boy's face as he continued even deeper.

"You'll be required to use Legillimens Maximus as you recite the spell, using it to go straight to my magical core and unwind the spell Lucius placed on me. Though the practice is pretty simple, relatively speaking, the theory behind is a little wobbly. If the cursed person does not have a strong magical core, then their magic could very well lose control and kill the person.

"The spell is meant to completely change the person's entire magical signature, making it untraceable to one's correct heritage. Because the spell is directly woven into one's magical core, as the core grows, the spell winds tighter and tighter. In some cases, the spell could possibly kill the person as they come into their inheritance, usually when a person has creature blood or a particularly strong magical core." he finished.

Draco and Snape stared at Harry in shock. That lecture was Granger worthy. No one—literally no one—ever thought the boy had enough intellect to keep up with Granger, let alone completely smash her to bits in theological lectures.

The boy looked at both of them. "What?"

"Harry, what you just said...where did all that come from?" Draco asked.

A blush crept into the boy's cheeks and he looked embarrassed...almost shamefully so. "I-I always held back in classes." He said softly.

Draco looked at him incredulously. "Why would you do something like that?"

The blonde, who thought education was hell of important, could not fathom someone purposely holding back.

They watched as the boy ducked his head low, his chin hitting his chest, and his shoulders slumped. He murmured something.

"What? Harry, what is it?" The boy raised his head to glare at Draco. His eyes abruptly lost their fire and he sighed.

"The Dursleys." He said simply.

"What?" Draco's brow furrowed. "The Dursleys? Who are they?"

Suddenly, Severus paled considerably and accidentally let out a shocked gasp. A pair of green-blue eyes and silver eyes turned on him. Snape looked at Harry almost fearfully.

"Petunia?" He spat out.

The boy's eyes widened; he nodded slightly and turned to Draco.

"My mother's sister." He said with a curious glance to Severus. "She married a walrus of a man and had a walrus of a son. They...don't like magic and therefore hated my guts. It was...uh." He hesitated, looking up at Draco and grabbing the hem of his shirt.

"What is it, Harry?" Draco stepped closer.

"They abused me." The boy said quietly. "They called me things like 'freak' and beat me; to get the freak out of me, they said. Dudley—that's their son, my cousin—would play 'kick the freak' with his friends—"

Draco suddenly growled and grabbed the boy, lifting his shirt.

"Oi, watch it." The boy said, struggling.

"Harry, if you do not stop now, I will stun the shit out of you and do this the hard way. So stop it." Draco bit out. The boy stopped and lowered his eyes in shame.

Draco swiftly pulled of his shirt and gasp in horror, wobbling backwards. Severus' legs almost gave out from what he saw. It…reminded him of himself when he was younger.

For one thing, the boy was horribly  _malnourished_. Severus always thought it was strange that the boy always ate so little during meal times. But looking at him now, Severus realized that if the boy ate anymore he would throw up, as his body was used to eating the bare minimum to survive.

Each rib showed clear through his skin even as his Quidditch-hardened abdominals contradicted the rest of him. His arms, though clearly muscled, were frightful thin and tapered into even thinner, fragile wrist. He was literally skin and bones with not an ounce of fat on him. It was almost scary.

But the worst of it was the welts across his back. Older ones clearly showed through underneath the newer ones; most of them looked only half healed, as if he received another beating or had to do hard labor before he could heal properly. Bruises that never completely healed littered his sides, adding on to his skinniness and making him look sickly. It was a surprise that the boy even survived all these years with all the shit he went through.

"Because I was a 'freak' I could never do anything good or better than their precious Duddykins." The boy said bitterly. "The first time I was ever beaten was after 1st grade began. One day we were sent home with report cards, and I was so excited because I thought Aunt Petunia would finally stop hating me because I got straight A's." He took a shuddering breath. "I was so wrong. When I arrived home, I immediately ran to Aunt Petunia to show her my grades. Dudley already showed her his as he got picked up from school while I had to walk. So when I showed her my straight A's she went into a raging fit. She slapped me so hard a fell to the floor and almost lost consciousness.

In the background, I could hear her shrieking at me 'How dare you get better grades than Dudley' 'You are nothing but a stupid freak, don't try to be better than what you are.' Turns out Dudley had mostly B's and C's because he'd rather spend his time bullying kids. Since then I always held back in classes and rarely got C'sm instead going with the safe side with D's just in case. But it was a double edged sword; because I got bad grades, Uncle Vernon would beat me and send me to the cupboard."

"The cupboard?" Draco asked with a deadly calm voice. In this way, he was just like his mother; the calmer she grew, the angrier she was, and the more likely you were going to die very painfully.

The boy shrugged. "'S where I slept till I got accepted to Hogwarts. That's why I'm so short, you know? Sleeping curled up and sitting hunched over with barely any food to eat for most of my life stunted my growth. Can I have my shirt back now?"

Draco handed the boy back his shirt, furious. "Harry, how could you not be angry over this? I want to kill those bloody wankers  _slowly_ and  _painfully._ "

The boy shrugged his shoulders again. "I was angry so much, so long ago. I'm sick of being angry. I just want to try to live a normal life as possibly now that Voldemort's gone." He sighed. "Now I got this shit to deal with. Speaking of which, Professor will you do the spell for me? I think you're the best Legimins other than Dumbledore, but no one knows where  _he's_  at, so you're left. Not to mention my mother asked specifically for you."

Beside him, Draco nodded empathetically. Damn the both of them…

Severus looked at the boy for a moment, contemplating on what to do. He couldn't seem to dredge up the usual hate he felt. The hatred he felt for James could not be reciprocated to the boy, as Potter was not his true father. Not to mention, he and the boy were not sio different, childhood wise. Maybe it had even be worse for the boy. He at least had Lily, but the boy had no one. Finally, he nodded once.

"I will do the damned spell. Don't expect immediate changes, and we're not doing this until tomorrow, after some properly rest."

"Yes, sir." The boy beamed. "Thank you, sir."

"And stop with the 'sirs' and 'professors'." Severus scowled. "You are a man now, act like it. Call me Snape."

"Yes...Snape. Again, thank you."

"You are welcome...Harry."


	3. The Changes We Endure

Harsh, body-wracking sobs pulled out of Harry's throat. He was sitting the bed of the room Snape let him use, legs curled to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, and his head buried in his knees. He tried to keep quiet with his sobs—he was pretty sure Draco would hear him, and possibly even Snape—but it was so hard when it already hurt so much.

He and Draco had been staying at Snape's for the past two days. Harry had went back to Grimmauld Place to get his mother's diary, so that Snape could go over the notes she left in there. Draco had returned to Villa de Malfoy for clothes—both for himself and Harry. When he'd seen Harry's wadrobe—he still wore Dudley's hand-me-downs, as it was too much of a hassle to go out to get robes—the blonde threw a fit. He ranted on about how it was inappropriate for a Malfoy to wear such rags and promptly burned all of Harry's clothes, including the ones that were on his back at the time. Now, he was walking around in Draco's ridiculously tight robes.

Another sob made his body shake, and Harry curled tighter on himself. It was one of his worst episodes.

This wasn't an unusual occurrence for him. It was something that happened every once in a while, after the end of the war. He always kept his emotions all bottled up—all his anger and pain and sadness—therefore, maybe around twice a month, he would suddenly wake up in the middle of the night and cry. He couldn't help it; there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But there was a trigger for it this time. He dreamed of his life before everything suddenly became so hectic. Before the war was such an immediate thing. When Ron was still his friends, and Hermione didn't run to him because Ron was being a bloody cockhead. When everything was just blissful peace.

Ha. Peace. As if he'd ever get that again. Or…maybe he could. Maybe, everything would be different because he was a Malfoy now. Draco obviously cared about him.  _Omnes familiae valor_ , the blonde had told him before he went to sleep. Value all family. Draco had told him that because the blonde knew he was going to have his true self unlocked; he would be an actual Malfoy. Everything was going to change.

Harry already went through enough change. He went through his first change when he realized he was gay. Dating Ginny had opened his eyes. Yes, at first he had desired the red-headed girl, but only when she was still boyish. But then she grew breasts, and hips, and was more concerned about the latest gossip in Witch Weekly instead of a good debate over which Quidditch team was the best.

He didn't understand why he felt such a way until one morning he caught himself staring at Seamus' ass as the Irishman bent over. Seamus had opened his eyes to…a lot of things. As in, things he didn't even know two guys could do together. Around that time, they were on the verge of war, and Harry didn't really have time to worry about his sexuality. But he did know one thing for certain; Ginny had to go. He remember after the war, when he saw Ginny's true colors.

_A deathly pale, dirt-covered Harry sat on the hard bed, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to check him. He was a little more than shaken up, and with good right at that. Anyone would look the way he did after dying, coming back to life, and going blow-for-blow with a Dark Lord._

_He sighed in relief, relaxing against the pillows of his bed. He was free. No more fighting, no more press_ — _in a few years probably_ — _no more school, no more nothing. He could do what_ he  _wanted now._

 _As he began to doze off, a small smile graced his still slightly blue lips. Maybe a vacation somewhere nice, like Hawaii or the Caribbean. He had the money and definitely had the time. A little alone time would've been great. Just him and the sea. He'd never seen the sea in real life, only from the taunting pictures the Dursleys brought back and placed on the mantle and forced him to clean. Harry sighed again. A vacation would really be_ great.  _He dozed off._

BANG!

_Harry was out of his bed and crouched in a defensive position, wand in hand, in a blink of an eye. His wand was concentrated on the person who flung the doors open, glaring at him with angry brown eyes._

_A few beds down, Madame Pomfrey gave a low curse as she dropped a potion vial, shooting a glare at the intruding person before waving her wand, banishing the spilt potion and fixing the vial, then shuffling away to grab another._

_Lowering his hand, Harry blinked in shock at the person on front of him. Ginny Weasley glared at her currently ex-boyfriend, hip cocked and arms crossed. As she began taping her foot, Harry straightened._

_"_ _Ginny_ — _"_

 _"_ _Explain!" She shouted, ignoring Madame Pomfrey's pointed glare. "Explain why you haven't looked for me? Explain how I had to fight all on my own. Explain how me, your fucking_ girlfriend  _had to come find_ you?"

 _Harry's brow knitted in confusion and anger. "Ginny, I just_ died  _and came back to life. As soon has Voldemort was defeated, I was dragged straight here. And you're not my girlfriend; we broke up before the war."_

_Ginny's face was ugly with anger. "You said it was only during the war! You said you were breaking up with me to protect me! You said we would get back together afterwards!"_

_"_ _I never said that!" Harry thundered. "Ginny stop being a fucking bitch and get it through your head. The world. Does not. Revolve. Around. You. The war just fucking ended. There's still so much to do; do you really think I have the time, the fucking_ mentality,  _to be in a relationship right now? Seriously?"_

_"_ _Dammit, Harry!" She screeched. "We're supposed to get married and live luxuriously! Live in a huge house with five cars and a bunch of mini you's running around! I was supposed to live a life like Narcissa Malfoy! I didn't even want to have to wipe my own ass! Dammit, Harry; you're fucking up everything."_

_Harry stepped back, eyes wide. "Is that what you wanted? Is that why you dated me? Yo-you…you bitch." He laughed humorlessly. "You know what? I don't even give a fuck; I'm not even attracted to you anymore. Haven't been for years. I mainly just dated you out of habit; I'd been pining after you while you slutted around and then I got you and…that was it. Nothing note-worthy. You're just a gold-digging slut."_

_Ginny gasped, a scandalized look on her face. "I'm telling Ron!" She whirled around and ran for the door._

_"_ _Please do!" Harry hollered after her. "And don't let the door hit your ego on the way out! On second thought, you should, just so it'll shrink a bit!"_

_The door slammed closed and Harry deflated, collapsing on his bed. Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue as she made her way over to him._

_"_ _You have one hell of a life, little one."_

_"_ _I know, Madame Pomfrey." Harry sighed. "I really wished I didn't."_

Harry shivered. Merlin, he hated that memory. It just reminded him of how many people were truly loyal to him as a real friend, and not because they wanted the benefits that came with being friends with the 'Boy Who Lived'. That did include Ron, he realized bitterly.

"Harry?" A tentative voice called out.

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, head lifting and red-rimmed eyes locking with concerned, sleepy grey ones. He quickly ducked his head and curled tighter on himself.

"Sorry." He mumbled. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It is fine." The bed dipped as Draco sat down. "Tell me what is wrong."

"Nothing you can fix."

"You do not know that."

Harry shook his head. "It's not a problem exactly. It's just…the way I am."

Draco arched a brow. "They way you are? So then you are a person who cries all alone in the middle of the night?"

"Yes."

"I do not think so." Draco smirked slightly when Harry glared at him. "I think something made you this way. I think there is a trigger that causes you to cry like this. And we are going to fix that."

Harry yelped when arms were suddenly wrapped around him. Draco pulled the raven into his lap and held him close. Harry struggled for a moment, but was no match for Draco's veela strength, and therefore stopped. After a moment, he hesitantly put his head on Draco's shoulder.

"There." He could hear the smile in the blonde's tone. "Now, tell me what is wrong."

"Yes." A deep voice that could only belong to one Severus Snape drawled. "Please do tell why you are emitting these depressed airs and spreading them through my house."

"I just…" Harry huffed in frustration when his voice cracked and tears welled up again. "It happens every once in a while. I…tend to keep my emotions to myself, bottled up inside. And…eventually my magic forces it all out, and this happens."

Draco tightened his arms around Harry. Snape, who was all the way across the room, pursed his lips and snapped his fingers. A very small house elf with huge eyes and ears that reminded Harry of Dobby appeared.

"Master Prince has called Tiny, sir?"

"Yes, Tiny can you get me a cup of chamomile tea laced with calming draught?"

"Yes, sir! Tiny can, sir!" With an excited eep, the house elf that perfectly fit her namesake popped away.

This caused a small giggle to bubble in Harry's chest and slip past his lips. Not only did the elf remind Harry of Dobby, but it also reminded him of how preposterous Hermione and her 'S.P.E.W.' thing was. He unconsciously muttered 'spew' under his breath.

"What is so funny, Harry?" He looked up to find both Draco and Snape staring at him.

He blushed and looked down. "Well...Hermione...sort of...believed that house elves are being mistreated and tried to start a society to get all house elves freed."

Draco looked at him in horror. "That is preposterous! The elves love their jobs. They would probably go crazy if they did not do this."

"I know!" Harry snorted. "That's what I've been trying to tell her for  _years_  she just doesn't listen."

"Well, what is this about 'spew'?"

Harry brightened and smile stretched across his face. "Actually, it's an acronym. S.P.E.W. It stands for 'The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare'. Hermione created little button pins for it with S.P.E.W. across, and me and Ron thought it actually said spew." Suddenly, the boy's face fell and crumpled as if he were about to cry.

Luckily, Tiny popped back in at that moment, capturing everyone's attention. The small elf gave the steaming cup of tea to Snape, who took it and strode forward, holding the cup out to Harry. Blinking slowly, Harry tentatively reached out and took the mug. His fingers immediately began to warm and he smiled slightly as the gentle, sweet smell of chamomile wafted into his face.

"Thank you." He said to Snape.

The man nodded curtly, returning to his place across the room, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Harry took careful sips of the warm tea, sighing in relief as the calming draught laced inside it began to work immediately. He relaxed in Draco's arms as his inner turmoil settled, his magic becoming less agitated.

"I have finished going over the notes your mother left, boy." Snape said. "I am ready whenever you are."

Harry perked up briefly. "Can we do it later today?"

Snape pursed his lips, considering. "We can, if you think you are ready."

"I am." Harry yawned. Now that his magic wasn't forcing him to stay awake and go through his emotions, he was extremely tired. Draco noticed.

"We can talk about this later." Draco shifted and took the now empty mug from Harry's limp fingers. "Get some sleep."

"M'kay." Harry agreed, crawling off of Draco's lap and into the blankets. He was out before his head even hit the pillow.

~oOo~

Harry stared at the ceiling in giddy excitement...and nausea.

That was why he hadn't yet gotten out of bed on this very, very much important day. He was afraid if he did get up, he would throw up everywhere...or worse. On Snape. And Harry didn't know what to do.

On one hand, he was happy because he finally found blood family that was—in Draco's case—willing to care for him, and he would love nothing more than to look at least a little similar to someone in his family other than his 'father'.

 _Plus,_  Harry admitted silently,  _Malfoy's are very attractive. Looking like one wouldn't be as bad as one would think...no worse than Lucius being my real father._

Harry sighed and rolled to his feet; heading to the adjacent bathroom. And  _that_ is the other hand. Who wanted Lucius Malfoy, current incarcerated Death Eater, loyal devotee to Voldemort, Harry's second most hated person since second year, to be their father? Even Draco had moments when he was ashamed to have Lucius as a father.

 _But Draco says Lucius wasn't like this before Voldemort came back._ Harry sighed again and stepped into the shower, letting the heat soothe his tense muscles and wash out any lingering nausea.

He remembered yesterday, when he and Draco took a trip to Malfoy Manor. When they went to Lucius' private study.

_"Well, this is it." Draco said, pulling some type of red flower from a pot. A fraction of the wall beside the table holding the flower pot slid aside to show a warm looking room. "I accidentally found this room when I was seven. Father was in there, but he was not angry with me. He simply just congratulated me on my cleverness and showed me around. It was always warm and cozy in there, so I constantly went back and read a book from one of the bookshelves, curled up in father's lap as he filled out work papers."_

_Harry looked around cautiously, not completely trusting anything belonging personally to Lucius Malfoy; afraid something—_ anything— _was cursed or hexed. Draco snorted, obviously figuring out what Harry was doing._

_"There is nothing in here that can hurt you, Harry. I wouldn't let you in here if there was."_

_He decided to trust Draco and let his guard down. Overran with curiosity, Harry immediately headed straight towards the bookshelves, which held vast amounts of books, much to his delight._

_Behind Harry was Draco, who let out a soft smile with—dare it be said?—fondness. Not that Harry could see it...or would he ever. It was very much so unbecoming for a Malfoy—or any Slytherin—show compassion to anyone not their life mate, in public. Not that they were in public, mind you._

_For many hours, Harry sat behind Lucius desk; going through paper work, finding sheets of parchment written almost as if he was writing a letter to a lover—presumably Lily. Other, similar, sheets of parchment were written diary style and Harry read through each and every one. Soon, he began to cry; silent tears that left Draco partially frantic to cheer him up._   _Harry eventually stood and stretched, his muscles sore from sitting so long. He laid a hand on the table and looked at Draco._

_"I-I didn't know, Draco. He...he was a good person then? At least…at one point in time." He looked downwards, barely moving his lips as he spoke. "He did love my mother."_

_From what he found in the desk, Lucius didn't seem like a bad an at all. All the malicious things he did...didn't really seem as if_ he  _did them. It was all so confusing._

_Draco stood and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it slightly "He was a very loving, proud man before the Dark Lord returned." His voice grew bitter. "Then he became this—…this thing that groveled at the Dark Lords feet." He snorted in disgust._

_Harry lifted his head to look at Draco when Snape suddenly appeared and interrupted them—_

"HARRY! You damned impotent bastard! If you don't wake up now—." Harry jumped at Draco's pissed voice and quickly step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he heard his door slam open.

"Where are you, dammit?!" Harry walked out of the bathroom to find a fuming Draco standing in the middle of his room, hand on hip and robes draped over his arm. " _There_ you are, you lazy git. It's almost ten o'clock in the morning!"

"Oh...yeah." Harry mumbled, walking to his trunk, bending over to root through it as he looked for something as close to fitting him as possible. He gave a small yelp as he felt a sharp stinging on his ass. He whirled around to glare at Draco.

"What'd you do that for?!" he said, rubbing the sore spot.

"I  _knew_ you were hiding some of those rags from me. Merlin, those things are worse than Mundingus'." He gave a delicate shudder. "Put these on and I will fix your rat's nest. Thank  _Salazar_  neither Father nor Lily has unruly hair." He thrust the robes towards Harry.

Scowling slightly Harry took the clothes and gave Draco a pointed look.

"What? Oh, for the love of Merlin!" The blonde said, rolling his eyes but turning around.

Harry quickly dressed, aware of Draco in the room. Even though the blond had already seen his scars, he was still self conscious of them. Remembering the day before, Harry could help the swell of happiness he felt for his older brother.

Draco was outraged to hear the Dursley's beat Harry. All through dinner he sat in stony silence, no doubt thinking of the ways he could torture the Dursleys to death. Not that he would, if Harry didn't want him to. Which he didn't; he wasn't going to turn into another Voldemort.

"Harry?" Draco called, tentatively.

"It's too tight. Who the hell wears this?" Harry complained.

Draco turned, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of the room, towards the main library where Snape was waiting.

 _What about my hair?_  Harry thought silently, arching a brow.

" _I_  do. And so does Father and now, you." he said, dragging Harry along. The rest of the way to the library was silent.

The library was magnificent. Floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed with books lined the each wall; a break between two where a large fireplace supported a crackling fire, staving off the cold September weather. A comfy looking couch and three equally comfy looking chairs sat in the middle and two large desks surrounded them. it was just as nice as every other room in Prince Manor.

Snape sat at one desk, going over the notes. His head was bent over and his hair lightly brushed the desk and papers. He looked up as Draco walked in with Harry, zeroing in on the raven haired man. He sneered slightly and turned his attention to Draco.

"What took so long, Draco? Surely it is not so difficult to wake a single boy. A light hex would do if one is stubborn."

Draco smirked. "He was already in the shower when I came. The r _eason_ it took so long is that this bloody house is so big!"

"Language, Draco. It does not matter anymore. Harry sit there in front of me. Draco you sit over there, I don't know how this will affect your magic." Snape said, indicating where each should sit.

Harry fidgeted in the chair. While brave only just the moment before, he now was terrified to death.

Snape sat in front of him, going over the counter spell for a last time. He wanted to make sure everything was correct before he began. The dark haired Potions Master looked up at Harry with a grim expression.

"...The process will more than likely be painful. If not, then a slight uncomfortable feeling will occur as I...as the book says,  _touch_  your magic core. Don't be a Gryffindor and panic, just sit still and let the process take place."

Harry matched the grim expression of his ex-Professor. "I was already prepared for that, Sna—sir. Chances are that I might be too strong or our cores won't sync properly. Even if that wasn't the case, it's still a possibility that it will be painful in general. I mean, you are pretty much taking my whole being, ripping it apart, pulling out all the right pieces, and gluing it back together." He shrugged.

Draco and Snape could only look at him. To calmly say that he was practically going to die, it shocked both of them. Then again, Harry has been facing death since age eleven...till only a few months ago.

And people wonder why he decided not to become an Auror. For seven years straight he faced things that most Aurors could only dream about their whole lives. And if it wasn't because of the fact that the life of an Auror would be boring, then it was simply because he had enough of facing danger every single fucking day of his life. He only wanted to live a normal life.

 _Well, as normal as it can get for the defeater of the Dark Lord._  Harry thought to himself.

"Clear your mind." Snape said to him.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. To clear his mind became easier after he 'died', sacrificing himself to Voldemort. Occlumency came easier to him too. That whole 'experience is the best teacher' thing definitely came in to play while fighting Voldemort.

"Are you ready?" Harry nodded to Snape. "Brace yourself. On three, okay? One…two…three.  _Legillimens Maximus_."

He flew back hard into his chair as pain flooded his body. He screwed his eyes shut. It felt as if someone hit him with a  _Crucio, but_  instead of fiery hot needles cutting into his skin, it felt as if the needles pierced straight through and were cutting at his very soul.

Very vaguely he heard Draco gasp behind him and start screaming at Snape. "What are you doing?! Stop it, Severus you are hurting him!"

Snape didn't—couldn't respond. He hunched over himself, concentrating on Harry. Every few seconds or so, his body shook in pain as Harry's magic lashed out at him, desperate to protect its master.

Harry could feel Snape in his mind, could feel the man's pain, and tried to hold on to his magic. He could feel its confusion as if it was saying ' _why are you stopping me?'_

Later, Harry would look back at this time and be amazed at his new found ability to  _feel_  his own magic. Not as a  _thing_  that he controlled with some words and a swish of his wand, but as a  _person_. As a part of himself that continuously wanted to appease him.

Harry's magic allowed Snape to delve deeper into him (heh heh heh). It shied away as the man reached its heart, timidly reaching out as Snape... _talked?_...to it. The pain lessened slightly as Snape spoke to Harry's core...Or at least it felt as if he were talking to it. That was the only word that came to Harry as he felt Snape contact his magic.

Suddenly, an intense pain shot through Harry's body; he screamed and arched his back at an almost inhuman angle. His magic began to unravel in his body as Snape, who had fallen on the floor, recited the spell. The goal was for Snape to stay in contact with Harry's core long enough to locate the curse and break it, the whole time repeatedly saying the counter spell.

As abruptly as it appeared, the pain went away; Harry fell to the floor beside Snape. It seemed Snape found the curse and was attempting to break it. Harry panted heavily as he sat in peace for the first time since they began.

Again, Harry's back arched agonizingly as the pain returned in force; this time directly in his chest straight down to his belly button. He dimly realized Draco was there holding him in a cool embrace. A few words registered through his pain filled haze.

"Harry...Harry. I am... so sorry. It...okay... end soon. Will not...do again...do not...on me."

The words were lost as the pain intensified and Harry let out a bloodcurdling scream. Sweat and tears ran down his face as he sobbed; silently praying for it to end—

And then...it was all over.

The pain disappeared almost as if it wasn't there in the first place. A soothing, calm feeling rushed through Harry as his magic healed him, begging to be forgiven be its master. Magic that still felt the same...or rather, not. It felt stronger...colder—no, not colder...but similar.

It reminded Harry of winter days when the sun fought the heavy, overcast clouds and its cold warmth heated his body as the bitter winter wind brushed against him in its cold embrace. It felt…right.

Slowly, Harry's senses returned to him. He first realized the slightly musky scent that was Draco's distinct cologne. Next, he felt the softness of Draco's wings wrapped around his body...and a cold wetness that seemed to appear from nowhere on his face. He carefully opened his eyes and immediately recognized Draco's tear-stained face. He tried to sit up, but Draco held him down.

"You cannot sit up yet, Harry." He whispered. "You went through a lot just now. You need rest."

"Where's Snape?" Harry croaked out.

Draco looked up and Harry followed his gaze. Only two feet or so Harry laid Snape, curled up on his side and panting hard. The shadows around the man and in the room seemed to undulate and throb. Alarmed, Harry sat up, ignoring Draco and the pain shooting through his body—which was nothing compared to the excruciating pain he felt earlier—and crawled to Snape.

"Snape." He croaked out softly. "Snape...get up. Come on. If I can get up, you can to."

He laid a hand on Snape's arm and shook the man gently. Two obsidian orbs blinked up at him. Snape shifted beneath Harry's and the Potions Master sat up slowly, Harry's hand still on his arm.

"Boy..." The man rasped, his voice nearly the complete opposite than its usual silky smooth depth. "I see it worked then. You lack the usual air of inanity that surrounds a Potter."

Harry winced slightly, looking down before flicking his eyes back up into Snape's. The man's eyes were not filled with hostility or hate, as they used to. But neither were they filled with warmth exactly. They betrayed no emotion on how Snape felt, other than the obvious pain from what just happened only moments before.

"Alright, alright. Enough of that. You both need sleep and you will go. To sleep. Now." Draco had risen and was now glaring down his nose at the duo, concern filled in his eyes. "Up. Now. I will not tolerate excuses. You both need rest."

Harry had no excuses or complaints as he already felt bone tired and thought of nothing more than to lie down in a warm, fluffy bed with soft blankets. The thought made him moan and he stood a tad too quickly, bumping into Snape, who had risen at a slower pace.

"Dammit, boy. I see you are still as inept as ever." The pain and weariness made Snape snappier than usual and Harry was quick to move out of his way.

He stumbled to his room, collapsing on the bed without removing his outer robes. Before his head hit the pillow, the raven haired man was asleep.


End file.
